


It's Over

by SpyderScully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cancer, Cancer Arc, F/M, Healing, MSR, Mulder x Scully, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4280397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpyderScully/pseuds/SpyderScully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So many battles have been fought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Over

He now regretted leaving her alone to talk with the doctor after the chip had been slipped into her neck. He wished he had insisted more forcefully that he stay with her, but she had firmly commanded that he go and get some food for himself.  
  
As if he would be able to eat.  
  
She had called him an hour later, ignoring his questions about how the discussion had gone and instead asking him to come as quickly as possible. He had driven back to the hospital, numb and quivering with fear and dread only scarcely held back by stubborn hope.  
  
Now he stood by her bedside, sickened with how pale and thin she looked and trembling as he waited for her to speak. Her hand was clammy and weak as he took it in his, more for his own benefit than for hers.  
  
“It’s over.” She said quietly.  
  
It felt as though his blood had boiled through his body in one heartbeat before it froze completely south of his chest. God, no. No. How could it not have worked? So much had pointed to the chip being successful, how could she so calmly sit there and tell him that his entire world was vanishing into a whisper of smoke?  
  
He was choking as he let go of her hand and took several forceful steps away. He needed air, but he couldn’t leave her, not like this. The feelings of desperation were closing in on his senses. He needed to get a grip; she needed him now. He could grieve later.  
  
Before he could speak, his brain gently prodded him to look closer at the woman sitting in front of him in her deathbed. As much as it hurt, he turned, startled when he saw that her face was not shrouded in grief or acceptance, but hesitant surprise and pleasure.  
  
“Wh…?” Was the one sound he managed to make, caught in wonder at the unfamiliar glimmer of life in her eyes.  
  
“Remission, Mulder.” Her voice was the quietest he had ever heard it, “Remission. The cancer is vanishing and it’s over.”  
  
He wanted to speak, wanted to cry, wanted to scream with relief over the words he could barely comprehend, but all he could manage was a whiney gurgle as he stood stock still in the middle of her hospital room.  
  
“I’m not completely out of the woods yet.” She spoke concisely, her eyes studied on the two little peaks her feet created beneath the bedsheets. Even now, talking of her own condition, Scully was ever the professional, falling back into the impersonal, “But there is a considerable amount of reduction in the number of malignant cells; enough for us to believe that…”  
  
For the first time since their conversation started, her eyes filled with tears. As much as it pained him, Mulder was heartened to see the salty wetness shimmering with something that looked suspiciously like hope.  
  
“…That you’ve been cured.” He finished softly, his voice shaky. Scully pursed her lips and then he saw the nod. Immediately his throat tightened to the point of near choking, this time with pure, delirious joy.  
  
He stepped toward her bed again, falling to his knees on the floor and trying to think of something—anything—that would properly express what her words were doing to him.  
  
“Your mom.” He managed to gasp out softly, “I need to call your—your family needs to know.” She reached out, her clammy fingers sliding effortlessly into the hand he had unconsciously curled over her forearm.  
  
“I asked the nurse to call them.” She soothed him quietly, “I just wanted a few minutes to regroup.”  
  
He nodded, realizing and understanding her need to process and compartmentalize. Although he’d had has his doubts about the chip, she obviously had even more shock to overcome with the discovery that it had appeared to work. His heart clenched in his breast when he realized that even in the midst of her desperation and grief, she had trusted him.  
  
“W-would you…” he was despising himself for his stuttering, “Do you want to be alone for a bit?”  
  
She let out a breathless chuckle that was so beautifully familiar he couldn’t help but let a small smile flit across his lips.  
  
“Being by myself is the last thing I need right now.” She smiled sardonically over at him, “We’ll talk later, I…I just wanted to be alone with you when I told you.”  
  
Without a word he let go of her hand, giving in to a primal need to be near her. Careful to avoid her tubes and wires, he climbed upon the bed, pressing himself against her side and snaking his arm beneath her gaunt shoulder blades. Using the bulk of his body, he coaxed her to lay down beside him.  
  
“Mulder,” her voice was patient but he could detect a slight whine in her tone, “You’re going to make me hot.”  
  
_Good,_ he thought, _Good. I want you to feel hot. I want you to feel hot and cold and irritated and enthused and hungry and happy and tired and curious because it means you’re alive and it means that you were strong enough to beat this. That WE were strong enough to beat this. So help me God, I’m never going to let you forget that…you beat this. You BEAT it._  
  
He ignored her gentle protest and instead pressed himself closer to her, dispensing with all the previous motions of strength, calm, and composition he had so desperately tried to cling to in the duration of her illness. He buried his face in her neck, allowing the tears to well in his eyes as he slid his arms tighter around her, all but clutching her to his chest.  
  
_Just for a minute._ He pleaded with her in his mind, _Just let me hold you for a minute, before they all get here. Let me feel you live._  
  
He fancied that she had heard him, because she put up no further objections and seemed to melt against his embrace. He felt her give a little sigh that he read as relaxation, and so he was surprised when he felt her nails bite deep and hard into his forearm.  
  
“Mulder…” Her voice was choked, and he realized she had allowed the tears to fall. She said nothing further, but he knew that her emotions and thoughts were swirling and darting within her mind. She was right—they would talk later. Right now, just for a minute, he would feel her breathe and heal and thrive.  
  
It was over.


End file.
